The Rat Race – An Assistant's Story

Submited by 'Rrose'

At one time I worked as an assistant for a particularly eccentric artist who for reasons best known for herself used to keep a pet rat, known affectionately as Micky, in the studio with her whilst she worked. She would often go away from the studio to meetings or on business and I became accustomed, along with looking after the studio, to looking after the rat, I didn't really mind it and actually became quite fond of the thing. It was nice to have some company during those long days alone in the studio, albeit from a rat, and at least this rodent was in a cage, unlike the multiple mice that seemed to make the studio their playground everytime my back was turned. When by boss was away I would look after Micky, making sure he had enough food and water and if she went away for a particularly long period, changing his bedding material and cleaning out his cage.

Now the particular studio in which we were based at that time was below ground level and very close to the river. As a result of this it had been known in years gone by to be particularly prone to flooding. One especially wet August my boss happened to be away, out of the country on business, I was looking after the studio, and as usual looking after Micky. All had been going fine for about a week and then one extremely rainy night I got a call from the janitor of the building in which the studio was based saying that the basement area was flooding and that I should get down there as quickly as possible in order to save the work and equipment. I drove down as fast as I could and was relieved to find that the water was only a few inches deep at that stage and most of the things were undamaged. I was also relieved to discover that Micky was safe and sound, sat in his cage on tp of the table. With a little help from the janitor I managed to move most of the stuff upstairs into a dryer and safer area between some of the offices, it was not ideal and thinking that I couldn't really leave Micky up there in someone else's office like that, I decided to take him home with me and look after him there for a while. So sticking his cage on the passengers seat I drove home and eventually arrived back, very late that night, at my flat. However, unbeknown to me, my boyfriend at the time had been nurturing a covert phobia of rodents and seeing me arrive back bringing with me a live rat into our small, one-bed apartment sent him totally up the wall. He inisted that first thing in the morning I got rid of 'that thing' and took poor Micky back to where he came from. Reluctantly I agreed and so the next day, whilst I couldn't sort out the mess in the studio being as it was still (by now) about a foot deep in water, I nevertheless took Micky back to the building. Initially I took him up to the office where our stuff was being stored but the ladies up there likewise freaked out at the sight of this apparently disproportionately alarming small mammal. After hearing their protests the long suffering janitor informed me that the building had a no pets policy and despairing of where to store the poor little fellow I was forced to sneak him back down to the studio, despite its flooded state. I made sure I gave him enough food to last him a little while, and if I'm honest, as something by way of consolation for his unfortunate plight. I left him, sat in his cage on top of the table, high out of reach, or so I thought, of the water.

That night it rained heavily once again and the next day I thought I'd better go back and check on the studio and on Micky. When I arrived I was worried to see that the water had risen considerably and it was then that the sad truth presented itself to me. Bouyed up by the rising waters, the table upon which Micky's cage had been resting had floated up and overturned sending the poor, unfortunate rodent sliding down and plunging to a watery grave. Trapped in his cage he had been unable to swim and had sadly drowned in the rising flood waters. I panicked, how was I going to break it to my boss that her beloved pet had met such an unfortunate end under my care? I spent the rest of the week worrying, deciding not to tell her over the phone, I awaited her return with anxious anticipation. When she arrived back she was obviously concerned to see the state of the studio and examine what had happened to all of her stuff, when I eventually nervously plucked up the courage to tell her about Micky she was naturally upset but didn't say really say too much about it. She said that she didn't blame me for what happened but after that I always suspected that she might be holding it against me, things never quite seemed the same after that and I left my position a few months later. I do feel a little responsible for what happened to poor, old Micky, to this day I still imagine him trying to swim free but being trapped in the sinking cage. I don't think however, that leaving that job overly affected my artistic career, at least I like to think not. It would be a strange thing not to make it as a successful artist over the sad fate of a drowned rat.